In the rugged landscapes of Montana, the Dutton legacy endures, not just in the sprawling ranches and vast plains but in the fiery spirit of Beth Dutton and her daughter, Spencer Hope, but everyone affectionately calls her "Penny". As Beth imparts t...
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The early morning sun bathed the campsite in a golden glow as Spencer and Tate emerged from their tents. Spencer in mismatched pajamas and a cowgirl hat perched atop her head. Tate in a mirroring attire. They both yawned and stretched, they looked at each other realizing they had overslept.
John Dutton their grandfather, sat in a weathered chair with a smirk, cradling a steaming cup of coffee. "Overslept, did you?" John teased, taking a sip of his coffee. "Well, you... You slept. That's what matters."
Rubbing her head with a playful pout, Spencer asked, "Is it too late to go fishing now?"
John chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Trout are like... They're like bankers."
Tate confused says, "Huh?"
John continues saying, "They don't do a damn thing in the morning."
Spencer and Tate look at each other confused.
Spencer, intrigued by the aroma of the coffee, ambled over to John. "Can I try some?"
John, playfully protective of his morning elixir, pulled the cup closer to his chest. "Nah. It'll stunt your growth."
Tilting her head, Spencer questioned, "What does that mean?"
John rose from his chair, looking down at his granddaughter. "Means it'll make you short."
Spencer, quick-witted as ever, retorted, "I'm already short."
John chuckled heartily. "Yeah, well, not as short as you'll be if you drink coffee." John stands up from his chair and says to Tate, "Why don't you bring the net if you're planning on a big one?"
Excitement gleamed in the two kid's eyes. Tate grabbed their nets and scampered after John as he strolled away. The trio ambled toward the river, their boots kicking up the dust of the campsite.
As they reached the riverbank, John pointed toward a promising spot. "Here, Tate. This is where the big ones like to hide." The young boy eagerly positioned himself with the net, eyes scanning the water for any sign of movement.
Spencer, always curious, asked, "Grandpa, why do you think we can't live like this all the time? Just fishing, sleeping under the stars, no worries."
John squatted down, a thoughtful expression on his weathered face. "Life has a way of complicating things, Penny. Responsibilities, expectations, battles to fight. But days like today, they remind us of what matters."
Tate, eager to prove his fishing prowess, cast his line with determination. Spencer, on the other hand, was more captivated by the reflections in the water, her young mind lost in the beauty of the moment.
John, sensing the tranquility of the scene, shared a quiet moment with his grandkids. "You know, there's something special about mornings like these. Makes you forget about all the troubles of the world."
